


Blessing

by sempervera



Series: Everyone knows that a god protects drunkards and lovers, A Musketeers collection. [1]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Athos being a stubborn idiot, Athos is sometimes even more of a puppy than d'Art, I Blame Tumblr, M/M, Some Fluff, Some angst, The Count de la Fère is fucking back, Tumblr Prompt, d'Art is a puppy who wants his Thos, d'Artagnan is a manipulative idiot, jealous!Athos, possessive!Athos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 07:21:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1217464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sempervera/pseuds/sempervera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Filling (ish) for missisjoker prompt: Athos sees another Count or Marquis or some other nobility flirt with d’Artagnan. They are not in an established relationship, there is no relationship at all, to be exact- but Athos can’t stand how naïve d’Artagnan falls into a trap – and the Marquis is actually known for his cruelty/ nastiness. So, Athos challenges him to a duel. Marquise the pompous ass refuses because he is not going to fight a low born commoner - and Athos tells him he is Count de la Fère and is actually more noble then all of the marquis’s ancestors combined. After Athos whoops his ass, Marquis disappears. d’Artagnan, as it turns out, was not planning on leaving with Marquese but wanted to see Athos’s reaction. (Gascon boy might be young and raw, but he isn’t stupid, nor is he blind. And since Athos is too stubborn to admit he feels something for d'Artagnan, there had to be a little push).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blessing

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired from one of [missisjoker](http://missisjoker.tumblr.com/post/76917824079/musketeers-prompts) prompts on tumblr, it should have been a possessive!Athos short one shot and ended up 3000 words long with something close to actual narrative details and a vague historical accuracy.  
> It hasn't been betad and English isn't actually my mother tongue, so some mistakes are quite possibly there.  
> Hope you like it.  
> Cheers!

A light breeze was blowing in the Louvre Palace’s courtyard in the early morning of Queen Anne’s birthday, the late September sun was rising and not a soul was in sight. The celebrations were not set to begin in another couple of hours but Aramis and Porthos had been sent as the personal detail of the Queen herself and they were completing one of the many patrols of the day, checking with the palace guards to make sure everything would be fine that afternoon.

Satisfied with the result of their patrol the two musketeers returned to take post out of the royal apartments, where a little crowd of servants and maids were coming and going through the doors, aiding the Queen and her entourage in the preparations for the festivities.

When a young woman, by the way she was dressed the daughter of some nobleman no doubt, tripped herself for the third time after Aramis opened the door for her with a dashing smile, and had to be helped back on her feet by the owner of said dashing smile, Porthos started considering stuffing Aramis in one of the many cabinets of the palace and keeping him there just to make sure he didn’t accidentally dishonor the daughter of some duke, count, or whatever.

“Can we please avoid to have one of us sent to gallows in the morning, at least for one day?” an exasperated Porthos asked to his fellow musketeer.

“Is that jealousy I hear in your voice, my friend?” Aramis asked back with an amused smirk on his face.

“That would be fun if I hadn’t woke up with you kicking my back in bed this morning” said Porthos with a knowing smile, “which, by the way, isn’t helping at all with this annoying feeling I’ve been having since then.”

Aramis’s laughter lightly echoed through the halls, “Don’t fret my friend, ‘tis a day of celebration this one, what could possibly go wrong?” Aramis finished, knowing how much that line bothered his lover.

Porthos didn’t just dislike that saying, he openheartedly hated when Aramis or Athos said that, he was superstitious by nature and to him that phrase only meant one thing: something was just about to go horribly wrong. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, oh, how he wanted to smack Aramis’s head right now.

 

* * *

 

 

The entire city overflowed with nobility, every city residence was occupied and so were the luxury inns and palaces spread all over Paris. It had started a week before and it would continue for another couple of days or so, until the celebrations for Queen Anne’s birthday ended and the city would return to its regular status.

Athos had completed the list of duties Treville assigned him to and was heading towards des Essart’s garrison to check on d’Artagnan before heading to the Palace to join the others,

 _You’re not_ checking _on him. You just want to see him._

Athos ignored his own inner voice, knowing it was right. He hadn’t seen d’Artagnan that morning; Aramis and Porthos left very early in the morning and d’Artagnan’s presence had been requested at his company’s quarters. Still, he ignored the real reason behind his desire to see the young Gascon and walked into des Essart’s garrison. He immediately spotted d’Artagnan, he was standing in line with some of his fellow guards, apparently under inspection of des Essart himself and another two men, the first one had all the looks of nobility, and when Athos spotted the sigil embroidered on his cape he recognized the man as the Marquis himself. It was easy now to identify the second man as the captain of the Marquis’ personal guard. It wasn’t uncommon for the captain of the guard to check with the detail assigned to their patrons, so Athos simply leaned against one of the wooden pillars of the courtyard, patiently waiting for the inspection to be over.

Athos’s patient wait lasted a solid ten minutes, during which he talked himself in and out of the idea of seeing d’Artagnan at least four times, he shook himself and was about to leave the garrison without having talked with the Gascon when he remembered why the Marquis’s name sounded familiar. Charles Marquis d’Albert, how could he forget? He knew the man.

The Albert marquisate was in Picardie, the same region as La Fère, where Athos’s possession and countship was. He remembered the Marquis’s story, sent young to Paris and brought up at court as a companion for the dauphin, grew to be proclaimed Grand Falconer of France and rarely seen in his native region. He remembered one of his visits when he was younger, it followed the assassination of Concini, the favorite of the Queen Mother Marie de’ Medici.

The rumors pointed to d’Albert himself as the head of the plot that resulted in Concini’s death, but they slowly died after the King himself appointed the Marquis captain of the Bastille, where rumors of another sort started. The man was famous for his hot temper and terrible character with the prisoners, every soldier heard talks of what went on in the Bastille. Still, having been converted to prison under the Cardinal’s direct orders, there was little that could be done about it. The Bastille was hell and everyone with a sane mind smartly avoided it whenever possible.

Athos smirked without a hint of amusement, thinking how d’Artagnan would feel, with all his sense of honor and righteousness, if he knew what kind of a man he was bound to protect for the next days. The inspection was finished by that moment and Athos headed towards d’Artagnan, who was still conversing with des Essart’s, giving Athos his back.

When Athos got closer to the Gascon, des Essart’s had already left but the Marquis was apparently still talking to his young friend. They were discoursing in a friendly manner and from his point of view Athos though he saw d’Artagnan winking after shaking his head in denial to something the Marquis had said

“Are you sure? You’d be welcomed in the prison garrison”, Athos stopped at the Marquis’s words. Was d’Albert offering his Gascon a place in his guard?

D’Artagnan smiled, “You honor me, sir, but I find myself quite satisfied with des Essart’s rule” he paused with a smirk “even if I’m sure yours would be just as satisfying” he concluded. D’Artagnan declined the offer, Athos sighed with relief. _Wait a moment, what had his Gascon just said? I must be going mad, d’Artagnan couldn’t possibly be playing double-entendres with the Marquis._

“You wouldn’t have to fatigue under me, believe me, your work would consist in a series of pleasant tasks, my young boy”. The Marquis’ sly smile left no doubts to his words; something stirred in Athos’s chest when he got confirmation what was going on. Athos had to steady his fighting hand before doing something stupid as slashing King Louis’s old friend in two.

D’Artagnan smiled once again to the Marquis but refused the offer and the Marquis apparently decided to give up, gathering his cape and about to take his leave.

“A pity though, such a pretty face wasted here, where is of no use. It pains me knowing how helpful your skills could have been under me. I look forward to these short days together.” Athos froze at the Marquis’s last words, conscious of the implications.

 

* * *

 

 

Somewhere in the Louvre Palace, Porthos punched Aramis on the shoulder. He didn’t know what for, but it felt as the right thing to do.

 

* * *

 

 

Somewhere in Athos, all hell broke loose.

“Take back your words, monsieur. Immediately.” Athos’s voice, firm and strong, made d’Artagnan turn in apparent surprise.

“Athos, what are you…?” the Gascon started asking, but he was cut off by Athos’s voice again.

“Silence.” The musketeer turned towards the Marquis, demanding his immediate and utter apology. The Marquis was livid, looking at Athos like he was some impertinent insect, daring to fly on his sleeve and annoy him.

“I will not do such thing.” The Marquis’s voice came out as a hiss.

“Then you leave me no choice.” The meaning behind Athos’s words were clear enough, d’Artagnan jumped at them, “Athos _what_ _on earth_ are you doing?” he gritted through his teeth but the man wasn’t paying him any attention, keeping himself between the Gascon and the Marquis, who looked more furious by the second.

“Take your insulting presence and challenge somewhere else soldier, before I have you whipped and brought before the king. I shall not waste my time with no lowlife over some commoner’s nonexistent honor.” The Marquis spat, looking at the musketeer with disgust.

D’Artagnan’s face fell at the words, the man insulted his honor and his friend’s. Athos could see the hurt in his face and when he opened his mouth again, his voice sounded more regal than he King’s itself.

“My name is Olivier d'Athos de La Fère, Comte of the Land, Lord of Sillègue, Athos, and Autevielle and King Louis’s Musketeer. There’s more nobility in a drop of my blood than in all your ancestors combined. Now, fight me or die on your knees. I don’t care which.”

 _And to hell with it,_ Athos thought.

D’Artagnan looked nothing short of petrified. The Marquis slowly acknowledged Athos’s words and drew his sword, he knew Athos’s title outranked his own, no matter his military one: it was France after all. Athos stood in the courtyard, more regal than ever.

When the men crossed blades it didn’t take much to understand who was leading the duel. Athos wasn’t Treville’s chosen sword for nothing, he _was_ the best sword in the regiment and he was well aware of that. The duel lasted no more than a handful of minutes; Athos easily disarmed his opponent and had his sword to the Marquis’s throat, who fell on the ground with a livid expression of shame.

A silent fury was raging inside Athos, he wanted to slash the man right there. D’Artagnan was at his side in a moment, calling his name and making him lower his weapon. Athos regained control of himself and not-too-slightly scratched the point of his sword on the Marquis’s neck. Not waiting for the man to stand up he took d’Artagnan by his arm and dragged the boy out of there. The entire scene didn’t last more than ten minutes but he knew des Essart would have received word of it by now and he wanted to avoid having to explain to Treville why he had been seized by des Essart’s company of guards after dueling with the captain of the Bastille.

They reached d’Artagnan’s residence before in a matter of minutes and, once they got inside, Athos almost punched the Gascon straight in the face to relieve the tension. He settled for pacing up and down the room instead. Thankfully Constance didn’t appear to be around or she would have probably punched them both, for good measure.

“Athos, are you… okay?” D’Artagnan’s voice seemed unsure. Athos stopped his pacing and turned to the boy. He could not believe his ears.

“Am I okay?” Athos asked in a low incredulous voice, just to raise it a moment later, “AM I OKAY?” he walked to d’Artagnan, wanting to strangle the boy. “What’s in that head of yours, damn Gascon? You know what could’ve happened if I hadn’t been there? If I hadn’t intervened?” Athos stepped forward with every word “Are you really that foolishly naïve?” he yelled to d’Artagnan’s face.

“I was perfectly aware of what was going on, I did not need your help.” The Gascon’s voice was quiet and controlled, “There was no need for your interference.”

The air was thick with tension and unspoken anger.

Athos couldn’t believe his ears, “Interference? You were about to spend two days with that disgusting man without doing a thing to avoid it!” D’Artagnan leaned against the wall, a cocky expression on his face.

“I was not. And even if I had been, what would have that been to you?” He rebuked to the older man.

“I… he was completely out of line!” Athos stuttered in response.

“And so?” D’Artagnan’s expression didn’t change.

“And so I had to do something about it, you didn’t seem to be wanting to do anything to defend your honor!” Athos yelled at the Gascon again, “You can’t keep on putting yourself into arm’s way and expect other to jump in your help.”

“Oh, don’t you even try that, Athos! I didn’t need nor asked for your help. It wasn’t my honor that was wounded, you challenged him because _you_ felt offended,” a pause “and that might actually _have_ been my fault,” d’Artagnan did look a little guilty at this point “but I was tired of this game, I wanted you to admit it before I had to knock some sense in you by force.” The boy’s voice was, once again, calmer and quieter than Athos’s but it was evident that the Gascon was starting to lose his composure.

“What are you talking about?” Athos took a step back, but, as he had said, d’Artagnan was tired of this little game. Today he almost risked Athos slashing the Marquis just to prove his point, time to change approach.

“I saw you coming inside the garrison and I provoked the Marquis to seek my attentions on purpose.” D’Artagnan gave Athos a meaningful look, hoping to god he would finally drop this annoying act of caring for his wounded honor, as if he was some damsel in distress and not a young soldier, perfectly capable of handling himself.

Athos was stunned, _his Gascon did what? And why?_ The surprise didn’t last long and anger took its place.

“Are you completely insane?” Athos yelled, the younger man didn’t say a word in response, “Why on earth would you put yourself in such a situation?” he continued, grabbing d’Artagnan by the rims of his blouse, the Gascon didn’t even flinch “What is the meaning of such an action?” he violently shook the boy to get an answer out of him. D’Artagnan kept his mouth shut still, keeping his gaze fixed on Athos’s, until the older man let him go, “Fine. Do whatever you want with yourself, it is not my business apparently. Go get killed in a ditch, see if I care.” Athos turned and headed for the door.

That was it. The boy had had it up to here.

D’Artagnan opened his mouth and all hell broke loose, again. “You! You’re a stubborn, unreasonable, hypocritical idiot!”

At his words Athos turned, shocked but with fire in his eyes “Pardon me?”

“You heard me,” the Gascon paused “You don’t care? It’s not your business?” d’Artagnan stepped forward, “You almost killed a damn Marquis, the Captain of the Bastille no less! Because he made a move at me!”

“You’re out of your mind!” Athos managed to barely get the words out, his head spinning when he suddenly realized the implications in d’Artagnan’s little speech. _D’Artagnan noticed. He knew._ A slight of hope caught Athos’s out of guard, probably showing uncertainty in his eyes.

That was all d’Artagnan needed.

With three strides he closed the space between himself and Athos, now paralyzed with fear, and then he stepped one more step closer, the gap between their lips almost inexistent now.

Silence fell in the room and for a moment Athos couldn’t move.

_No. This isn’t supposed to be happening. Stop it. Get out of here._

“Do you remember the night I got you out of your mansion? Do you remember anything of before I soaked you in cold water?” d’Artagnan paused, “I kept yelling. I don’t think you could ear me, you were completely shell-shocked, but I kept yelling you to stay with me, to hold on to me and resist.” D’Artagnan sighed and finished what he had to say, if this didn’t manage to get Athos to finally admit what was going on, he couldn’t think of nothing that would.

He lowered the left rim of his blouse, where the scar of a burnt was almost healed, but still visible. It had a weird round shape; Athos stared at it for a second before realizing what it was and raised his right hand almost in shock: D’Artagnan’s burnt was an exact replica of the ring’s sigil on his right hand.

“I did that to you.” Not a question.

“Yes,” d’Artagnan nodded.

Athos couldn’t keep his gaze from the Gascon’s chest, the fire must have rendered the exterior of the ring almost incandescent to leave such a mark.

“I hurt you.” Again, not a question.

Athos couldn’t know that d’Artagnan had been praying to ear those exact words so what happened next felt as nothing short than a mystical experience to him.

“It was not your fault.”

The Gascon kept his gaze steadily fixed on Athos’s while he pronounced the words, completely aware of all of their meanings.

A wave of relief took Athos so hard he thought his legs were about to give out. D’Artagnan’s words felt as the blessing of a priest, the forgiveness of a brother and the unconditional acceptance of a lover, all at the same time.

Athos cradled the Gascon’s face, _his Gascon_ , face in his hands for what felt like an eternity before closing the gap between their lips.

 _And to hell with it,_ Athos thought, for the second time that day.

D’Artagnan felt so happy could have yelled his joy to the world from every roof in Paris.

He decided that keeping on kissing Athos would be the better course of action.

Of course, Constance chose that exact moment to open d’Artagnan’s door, catching them in the act. Everyone froze for an instant.

“It was about time. This one spent the last week pining over you, I was about to throw him out in the streets just so I wouldn’t have to listen to him,” she said pointing to a mortified d’Artagnan and making Athos laugh. Constance smiled with affection.

“Now, Athos, get out of here,” she continued, “Aramis is at the door, claiming that Treville is going to have his head if he doesn’t get you to the garrison right away and that Porthos is going to have it anyway because apparently this is all his fault,” she stopped, still confused by that one “whatever that may mean.”

D’Artagnan looked alarmed at the mention of Treville’s name, feeling guilty. Athos saw the look on his face and shook his head with a smile, “Don’t worry, I can reason with Treville. He’s somewhat of an expert of Gascon’s impetuosity.”

Now D’Artagnan looked confused, “You’re not Gascon.” Athos smiled, “No, but he is,” he said with a wink.

“If you two could stop all this indecent fawning over each other, we should move. I enjoy my head attached to the rest of my body pretty much.” Aramis stepped inside the room.

Athos glared to his fellow musketeer.

“What? It’s not my fault if you decided to come to your senses about this one,” he said pointing to the younger man, “by challenging to a duel the Captain of the Bastille.”

Athos was about to throw something at his friend. D’Artagnan groaned, “Treville must be furious.”

Aramis laughed, “Actually, I think he might just throw a party or something. He hates d’Albert with everything he has, the Marquis is a Cardinal’s man after all, and one of the nastiest at that” he concluded.

“Anyway, we really must go. Athos and I need to report to Treville and you, d’Artagnan, need to reunite with your company. I heard they were leaving for the Palace shortly. Madame Bonacieux, charming as ever.” Aramis took his hat in hand and made a derisory bow to Constance before leaving the room. The woman smiled and gracefully followed, but not before smacking the musketeer on his head, for good measure.

Once again alone in the room the two men stared at each other. D’Artagnan was about to say something before Athos interrupted him by kissing him fiercely.

“You talked enough. My turn now.” The Gascon smiled warmly and enjoyed the feeling of Athos’s arms around him.

“Go back to your company, we’ll see each other at the Palace,” d’Artagnan’s expression was comical, he was basically pouting. Athos wanted to laugh, he looked like a little child. Well, he _was_ , after all _his little Gascon_.Athos smiled at the nickname he was now allowed to use, but continued talking, “ It’s still her majesty’s birthday, you know? Once this is over, we’ll get together, I promise.” Athos underlined the meaning of his words by kissing the boy again, passionately and with sentiment.

“WOULD THE TWO OF YOU JUST GET OUT HERE?” Aramis’s voice came from outside “PORTHOS IS GOING TO KILL ME!” The musketeer’s face appeared at the window.

If looks could kill Aramis would have dropped dead the second Athos turned to the small glass rectangle. D’Artagnan started laughing, “Go, or the entire neighborhood will be made aware of our indiscretions,” he said nuzzling his lover’s neck.

Sighing Athos gave the boy one last kiss and left; d’Artagnan was smiling stupidly and content at the now empty frame of the door.

“Take good care of him.” D’Artagnan turned, he forgot about Aramis at the window, the musketeer’s voice surely showed happiness for the two of them, but there was the shadow of a threat, a warning, in it.

“I will.” The Gascon stood firm on his feet, nodding to Aramis.

“Good. If I had to kill you for hurting him I’d have taken it very personally.” D’Artagnan laughed at his friend using his own words.

“ARAMIS WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Aramis’s head fell in between his shoulder as he made haste to get on his horse. “God, this is worse. You’re even more jealous now,” he murmured while getting on his saddle.

“WHAT?” Athos’s voice scared a flock of little birds that were idly resting on a tree branch.

“Nothing, nothing.” Aramis smiled, happily, everything was turning out for the better. What could possibly go wrong now?

Somewhere in the Louvre Palace, Porthos felt the sudden urge to hit Aramis.

**Author's Note:**

> About that vague historical accuracy:
> 
> Queen Anne's birthday actually is September 22.
> 
> The Marquis d'Albert is actually Charles, marquis d'Albert and also duke de Luynes, still, I needed him to have a lower title than Athos's so I just stripped away his duke title. He was indeed King Louis XII childhood friend, Grand Falconer of France and Captain of the Bastille (as well as Peer of France and Constable of France actually). Along with King Louis he orchestrated the plot that got Concini killed and they also had Leonora Galigai executed on charges of witchcraft. Two pieces of work uh?  
> Unfortunately d'Albert was technically dead in 1621, when our d'Artagnan (in Dumas' work) gets to Paris, but I didn't like the guy and wanted him to be the baddy so I gave him some extra-years to live and get his ass kicked by Athos.  
> His lands really were in Picardy, near to Athos's. 
> 
> Athos's title "Count de la Fère", while invented by Dumas, is tied to the domains of La Fère which were owned by our very own Anne of Austria at the time. The rest of the lands Athos's claims to, I took from Armand, Seigneur de Sillègue, d'Athos, et d'Autevielle, which was the existing Gascon black Musketeer Dumas took inspiration for Athos's character. 
> 
> The Bastille became a state prison under Cardinal Richelieu and he was heavily involved in its transformations.


End file.
